


sing me green and gold

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, M/M, Slow Build, classical pianist midorima, kuroko/takao friendship bc i like that, lead vocalist takao, takao with synesthesia, they go to music school
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3315188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kazunari's always been able to see sounds. Each instrument, each song, each person's voice, they all had their own distinct colour. It's no surprise he's studying music after high school, or that he has his own band. </p><p>But when he happens to catch a certain green-haired boy playing the piano one morning, he's struck. There's just something about the deep-sea greens the boy manages to produce from the ivory keys that has Kazunari captivated and speechless. </p><p>Kazunari finds himself growing closer to Midorima Shintarou, year one, classical pianist, despite his own aversion of any classical musicians at the school. Through multiple songs, splashes of colours, strange superstitions, and dumb bandmates that are probably detrimental to their health, Kazunari and Shintarou will experience that irresistible chemistry of music falling into place, the kind that makes all your senses come alive, and you begin to question:</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Where have you been all my life?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. opening chords

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to write about music and colours and then all these basketdorks decided to show up like wtf  
> (if you'd like to request a character, hit me up and i'll see what i can do)
> 
> idk about the title, it was gonna be "sing me green and orange" but that just sounds dumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> featuring: classical pianist midorima, lead vocalist takao, takao with synethesia, izuki's cringeworthy puns, bakagami vs ahomine: battle of the idiot drummers, miyaji's pineapple threats, and kasamatsu's badassery.

Kazunari is in deep shit.

Not, like, _actual_ shit, because that’d be gross, and honestly, how does one accidentally (or purposefully?) fall into actual shit on a school campus at eight-twenty-three in the morning? You’d have to be especially clumsy and have terrible luck and probably own a giant dog or a freaking horse because where else would the shit come from and anyway, that’s not the point.

“Come on, come on, come on,” he mutters under his breath, fingers tapping the counter impatiently. He stares down the barista currently topping off his drink with an intensity he usually reserves for the studio room or on the rare occasions he steps on court. There’s a line behind him and a class he’s definitely late for as of three minutes ago.

“One hazelnut soy latte, here you go---”

“Finally, thanks!” Kazunari grabs the drink right out of the barista’s hands, nearly causing the poor kid to spill the beverage. Thank gods for the lid on the cup.

He turns and starts to weave his way through the ridiculous morning crowd of half-awake students and barely-slept-last-night crammers. It’s a cloudy day, a pretty mellow and aloof Thursday, which was a nice change from yesterday’s melodramatic Wednesday. He pushes through the people milling about, moving as fast as he can without burning himself with his drink, conscious of the fact that this is the third time this week he’s going to be arriving late to Nobu-sensei’s class with a caffeinated beverage in hand. Ah, well. It isn’t like Nobu-sensei really cared, and Kazunari is breezing by at the top of the class anyway. Music just came naturally to him.

He reaches his class, slipping into the lecture while the sensei is writing some scales on the board. Nobody even glances at him, and he slides into his seat at the back of the classroom, right next to Kuroko, who blinks at him once before facing forwards again. When Kazunari is settled in with his notebook out and half-finished coffee on the desk, a note slides over from his left.

_Seventeen minutes late this time. A new record, Takao-kun._

Kazunari rolls his eyes. Pulling off his headphones, he scribbles right back.

_it wasn’t my fault there was a line. i need my caffeine to function, kuroko._

Kuroko snorts lightly, barely looking up at him. The fair-haired boy turns his attention back to the lecture, and Kazunari does the same, allowing the muted olive of the sensei’s droning voice to lull him into a half-awake sensation, not unlike the feeling he experienced barely two hours ago, when his alarm clock rudely interrupted his sweet dream of performing at the Budokan.

An hour later, Kazunari follows Kuroko out the door. The halls are filled with other students rushing to get to their next class and students with a need to stand in the middle and block everybody’s way. He keeps pace with Kuroko, who somehow always manages to find the exact spots in the crowd that he can slip through without bumping into anyone.

“I finished another one,” the shorter boy says to him, his expression and voice as mild as ever. But Kazunari has known his friend long enough to tell the tiny shifts in Kuroko’s demeanor: the slight lift of his eyebrows and the brighter shade of azure in his tone indicates his pride and excitement in that statement.

“I thought you just started yesterday,” grins Kazunari. “You’re a miracle worker, you.”

“Only barely,” Kuroko replies with just a hint of a smile on his lips, “But if you’d like to see it, I can bring it around this afternoon. You are in the studio this afternoon, correct, Takao-kun?”

“You just want to see Kagami, don’t you.”

“Darn, you caught me,” says Kuroko, though his facial features and voice remains blank and unchanged.

Kazunari laughs, hooking an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Yeah, your boyfriend looks hot playing the drums, I get it. You can also take a listen to the finished sound of the lyrics you gave me last week.”

They’re making their way to the west entrance when Kazunari suddenly pauses, his ears alert and listening. Kuroko walks a couple steps before turning back with a question in his blue eyes.

“What is it, Takao-kun?”

“Shh.” Kazunari cocks his head, eyes widening. “Hear that? Forest greens and deep-sea turquoise, the sound of a piano.”

“We’re standing outside a music room, Takao-kun.”

Kazunari turns. Kuroko’s right, they are standing in the hall of independent study rooms, and the one on his left is currently in use. He steps closer, peeking in through the door to see a spacious room with the blinds open and natural light pouring in, spotlighting a single grand piano, and a boy sitting before it, coaxing a myriad of lush, steady hues from the ivory keys. Kazunari can only see his profile, but his sharp eyes can make out the youthful, smooth-cheeked face, and the serious set of the defined jawline. He leans closer, trying to make out the eyes hidden behind the reflection of the boy’s glasses, but his nose hits the glass, and he lets out a small yelp.

“Who is that?” he says, rubbing his nose. The boy’s fingers are still moving across the keyboard smoothly, showcasing obvious skill and grace. Kazunari has seen great pianists before, been to his sister’s recitals numerous times, and has even worked with people that can master the classic instrument quickly and easily, but this is the first time a nameless piano player has captivated him so. Something about the boy sitting straight as a mic stand and the clear dignity in how he holds himself has Kazunari unable to look away. “He’s amazing, isn’t he, Kuroko? Man, what I wouldn’t give to know his name.”

“His name is Midorima Shintarou, year one, classical pianist.”

Kazunari blinks, looking over at Kuroko with bewilderment. “You know him?”

“No, it says right here.” The blue-haired boy points at the paper taped under the STUDY ROOM 4 sign, where there’s a signup sheet for users.

“Oh.” Kazunari returns his gaze to the boy inside. “Midorima Shintarou,” he mutters to himself. “Midorima the pianist. Midorima Shintarou. Shin-chan.”

Kuroko sends him a sidelong glance. “I thought you hated classical musicians.”

“I wouldn’t use _hate_ , exactly, more like... an aversion. They’re just kind of, boring, you know, always sticking to the score _as written_ , like where is their sense of risk and adventure? And have you met some of them? That giant of a cellist, Murasakibara or something? He won’t even talk to you if you aren’t holding a string instrument in your hand. Or freaking Akashi Seijuurou, holy shit. He dismisses you as soon as you let slip that you can’t identify between Haydn, Mozart, and Bach.”

“Murasakibara-kun will talk to you if you give him Umaibo. And Akashi-kun is a musical genius, so his knowledge of music is probably on par with the professors here.”

“Yeah, well, he freaks me out.” Kazunari presses his face against the door again, watching the boy play. “Shin-chan here seems different though.”

“You don’t even know him,” Kuroko deadpans.

Kazunari grins, his eyes narrowing. “Not yet I don’t.”

Kuroko sighs, glancing at his watch. “We’re going to be late for our next class, Takao-kun.”

“Alright, alright.” The raven-haired boy steals one last look at the green-haired boy sitting at the piano, still in awe, before turning and following his friend down the hall.

 

**+++++**

 

“How did it end up like this,” Kasamatsu, the lead guitarist, says flatly. His expression is a cross between absolute resignation and _I-am-so-close-to-strangling-someone._

“Eh, I might’ve sorta told Kise that we were having practice today?” Kazunari shrugs, scratching his head.

They’re in the private studio that they book every week for their up-and-coming band, which has just recently been gaining some attention from scouts and record label agents, thank you very much. Kuroko had brought over the newest songs he’s finished writing, and Kazunari and Kasamatsu usually set about to adding a melody and arranging the piece right away, but ever since Kagami and Kuroko hooked up, the process has gotten even longer. It doesn’t help when Kise and Aomine manage to follow Kuroko in as well, causing their practice to cease altogether in favour of ruckus and too many college boys in one room.

“Why” is all Kasamatsu has to offer, rubbing his temples in an exasperated manner.

“He’s my roommate, man. And besides, it never hurts for Kagami to learn and improve.” Kazunari grins carefreely, gesturing at where Aomine and Kagami are going at it on the drums, creating sharp shades of ginger and amber from their intense desire to show each other off. Aomine is well-known on campus for being a master of the rock genre, especially freestyling and improvisation, and his drumming skills were sought after from many bands but he refuses to join any, saying it “requires too much effort, I just want to nap and play ball, man.”

“They’re _beat_ ing each other with the _beat_ ,” Izuki exclaims, a finger in the air and a triumphant smile on his face. “Aha, can’t believe I never thought of that before.” He quickly pulls out his little joke book and leans against his keyboard to scribble his new oneliner down.

“Can’t believe how terrible that pun was,” sighs Miyaji, facepalming himself. He’s already put his bass guitar back on the stand, knowing that practice, for the time being, was postponed indefinitely. “Why is this guy in the band, again?”

“Because a band with five guys is better than a band with four guys, right guys?” Kazunari grins brightly, ignoring the exasperated looks thrown _his_ way.

Kasamatsu sighs, kicking Kise out of his personal space, and pulls his guitar over to where Kazunari is casually straddling a chair. “Come on, we might as well get some work done. What about that new song Kuroko finished?”

They settle down and ignore the dumbasses in the corner still bickering about who’s better at drumming, discussing and debating different chords and tunes for the thoughtful lyrics Kuroko has written. There’s always at least three different opinions for each line, with Kasamatsu going for the earnest heartfelt route, Miyaji going for whatever’s flashier to play, and Kazunari going for what’s going to catch the most attention in the market. At some point, Kuroko tires of hearing the horribly idiotic insults his best friend and boyfriend is flinging at each other, and wanders over to explain his words. Kazunari records a page and a half of what looks less like sheet music and more like a bunch of crossed-out scribbles and markings, but it’s normal for first drafts, and by the time he sits down that night to write out a finished version, it’ll look like something worth a million bucks.

“I think we got most of it,” Miyaji says, looking over their hard work. “I can definitely have the bass down in two days.”

Kasamatsu nods, his natural frown directed at the sheet before him. “We should be ready to run it through fully next week.”

“That sounds good----” Izuki snaps his fingers, pointing at Kasamatsu, “like music to my ears!”

Everyone groans, but Kazunari furrows his brows at the sheet music in front of him. “I feel like something’s missing.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “It sounds good so far, you know, like our regular sound, but there isn’t that--- that _pop_ , you know? Like, it’s all oranges and yellows but it’s missing that shade to tell the difference between sunset or sunrise?” He looks up to see the others blinking at him. “Uh, maybe that’s too poetic?”

“No.” Kasamatsu looks back down at the paper. “I sorta see what you mean, but I don’t have a clue what’s missing.”

Miyaji sighs, rubbing his head. “I don’t get your artistic instincts, man, but if you think there’s something missing, then you’ll find it. You always do, otherwise I would’ve chucked a pineapple at your stupid face already.” He claps a hand on the raven-haired boy’s shoulder. “I’m giving you a week.”

“Eh?” Kazunari gapes at the bassist, who’s already walking over to the corner where Aomine and Kagami are just about ready to tear each other’s throats out with drumsticks and threatening to throw various produce at them.

“Yeah, Takao. We’re counting on you.” Even Kasamatsu is standing up and putting his guitar away. “Oh, and make sure to practice the other songs, too. We have a gig on Monday, right, Kuroko?”

The blue-eyed boy nods. “There is a bar a couple blocks from campus that hosts many underground performances. I’ve booked the band for 8pm.”

“You’re the man, Kuroko,” says Izuki. He pauses, eyes lighting up again, and ignoring everybody’s protests, he goes, “Or should I say--- you’re the _man_ ager?”

Kazunari sighs, looking back at the music. Sometimes he questions the people he spends his time with, and sometimes he asks why he always manages to find more work for himself. He picks up the papers, stuffing them in his bag. Well, the feeling of satisfaction and the looks on his bandmates’ faces when they finally come to the right sound will be worth it. The music is worth it.

There’s a crash and the sound of fists flying, and Kazunari looks up in time for a drumstick to smack him right in the face. He goes down with an ugly squawk.

“You idiotic boob-obsessed _ganguro_!”

“ _What_ did you call me, you burger-stuffed asshole!”

“Oh, I’m totally uploading this on Vine, Aominecchi, look here!”

“Kise, you idiot, don’t record this, stop them! That’s the fourth one they broke this month!”

“YOU LITTLE SHITS, I’M GOING TO RUN YOU BOTH OVER WITH KIMURA’S TRUCK!”

Kazunari takes it back. Sometimes, the music just isn’t worth all this pain. He groans, already feeling a bruise starting to form on his eye. Stupid hot-headed drummers.

“Takao-kun, are you alright?”

Kazunari opens his good eye to see Kuroko’s concerned expression that’s really just the slightest of a crinkle between his blue eyes. “Your taste in men _sucks_.”


	2. bring in the bass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> featuring: midorima's beautiful slender fingers, akashi's terrifyingly accurate rhythm, a giant tuba player, midorima in denial, takao with a crush, kuroko's novel choices, and kise the punching bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been watching too much shigatsu wa kimi no uso lately... idk debussy always sound like a lullaby to me until it makes me cry

“You’re slow, Shintarou.”

Red and gold eyes stare at him impassively over a music stand. The formidable Akashi Seijuurou stands next to the piano, holding his violin by the neck. They’ve been going over the same movement for an hour and twenty three minutes now, and while the piece is familiar enough that his fingers have already memorized the notes and the scales, somehow Shintarou just can’t seem to follow the strict and steady rhythm the genius violinist has set.

Shintarou pushes up his glasses, exhaling from his nose. “I apologize. This passage appears to be troubling me quite so.”

The redhead shakes his head. “I know your capabilities, Shintarou. You should be able to do this. Now, let’s run over it again.” Akashi lifts his instrument to his shoulder once more, closing his eyes and waiting.

Shintarou turns back to the ivory keys in front of him, and breathes in silently. He knows the genius musician was harsh and strict normally, especially when it comes to music. Shintarou himself is the same, always sure to spend at least three hours of practice at the piano each day and listening to the recordings when he’s not in front of the piano. But they have a festival coming up in a couple weeks, and Akashi’s pressure has increased tenfold, which Shintarou honestly didn’t know was possible until he was experiencing the intensity first hand.

The hold harmony for fifteen bars, the high crooning of the strings and the steady waterfall of piano notes dancing to one of Debussy’s sonatas. Then, too quickly, with barely five more bars left on the page, Akashi’s violin ceases, and there is a short sigh. Shintarou stops.

“You’re too fast now.”

“I apologize.” Shintarou shakes out his hands, which are becoming tired from the relentless practising, but he refuses to voice it out loud. Despite the fact that they often work together for concerts and festivals, Shintarou still holds a very competitive flame towards Akashi, and he’s always been a proud person anyway. “Once more?”

“No.” Akashi lowers his violin, shutting his music folder with one hand. “That’s enough. We will make no progress until you master that passage on your own.” He leans down to put his violin away, his face and tone unchanged but still able to give the impression that he’s disappointed and  _you better have it right the next time or else_. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, same time.” Without further ado, he walks out the door and shuts it behind him with a polite click.

Shintarou frowns. He still has the room booked for another hour. He knows it is his fault that their practice is cut short. He reaches up to adjust his glasses, scowling at the thought that Cancer is only ranked third today, and even though he’d brought his lucky item, a Post-it notepad (neon orange), his performance was less than satisfactory. Straightening, he places his hands back onto the keys, and takes a deep breath.

Calmly gazing at the music before him, his fingers begin to play.

 

**+++++**

 

If you asked Shintarou where the most terrifying place on earth was, he’d probably reply without missing a beat, “school cafeteria” and then clear his throat and push up his glasses like he didn’t just shudder at the mere thought of the place.

Standing in line with a tray in his hands, the pianist wonders again why he agreed to meet his senpai here of all places. It’s already hurting his head just standing amidst the sheer noise and the number of the crowd. The only good thing is the fact that he’s taller than most of them so he can easily maneuver his way to the table in the west corner.

“Ootsubo-senpai,” Shintarou says, setting his tray down. He carefully places the Post-it notepad next to the tray, making sure it is away from any suspicious stains spotting the table.

“Midorima! Glad you could make it.” The big tuba player waves a forkful of potato salad at him. “How was your morning practice?”

Shintarou sighs, pushing up his glasses before picking up his chopsticks. “Not very well. I suppose because my ranking is not high enough today, I couldn’t play the passage smoothly enough.”

Ootsubo laughs, a booming sound across the cafeteria table. “Oh, you and your Oha-Asa. Your rhythm and counting was always your weak spot, wasn’t it?”

“My technique is always spot on,” says Shintarou, pushing up his glasses again.

“Yeah, yeah. So, how’s your self-improvement project coming along, Midorima? You know the sensei is actually expecting some proof that you’re not just shutting yourself up with the piano all day, but actually experimenting with different types of music and not being anti-social----”

“I am not anti-social. I am partners with Akashi, and I work with the freshman orchestra occasionally.”

“You mean once. And Akashi is partners with you because you guys went to the same high school. I think what the sensei’s looking for is _growth_.”

“What do you mean.”

“Your growth as a musician. Midorima, I can only play the tuba but even I know that you have a talent for classical piano. But I’ve known you since you entered this school and all I’ve ever seen you do is lock yourself away playing the same composers and flaunting the same techniques. You need to know how to work with others, and not just for competitions where you are the _accompanist_ for a certain redheaded violinist.”

Shintarou sighs, finishing off his tea-boiled egg. “I don’t see how practicing my skills is wrong, but how do you suppose I work with others, then, Ootsubo-senpai?”

His senpai grins. “Make friends, Midorima. Step out of your comfort zone. Being a musician isn’t just about polishing your techniques, you know? Try different styles or something. I bet you can find some jazz ensemble or alternative band to work with.” The tuba player stands, taking his empty tray with him. “Do it, Midorima. I want to be able to report good news to the sensei.” With that, Ootsubo walks away, leaving the pianist frowning at his food and wondering what he should do about this overdue project.

 

**+++++**

 

“And he’s just sitting there playing his piano, but--- you’d think he’d be all pompous and ridiculous and--- you know, classical musicians and all that, but it’s not like that at all! I’m watching him and he’s playing all these greens and I’m _captivated_ , you know? You get it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Kise says, eyes wide and watching his friend with rapt attention. Kuroko sits beside him on the bed, reading his book with his impassive expression.

They’re in the dorm room Kazunari and Kise shares, on a rare afternoon when class is cancelled and they don’t have any assignments to rush. Kazunari was back at that study room watching (“Peeping,” Kuroko murmurs, prancing out of Kazunari’s reach) the green-haired pianist again, until the bell rings a startling silver and he had to book it all the way to the other building. He just can’t seem to get that mysterious Shin-chan out of his head, despite him staying far away from classical musicians, despite only seeing him through a tiny window, Kazunari can’t even focus on his music, he’s so busy thinking of piano notes and slender fingers. So now he’s here pacing in front of his friends, recounting his complete and utter infatuation with one Midorima Shintarou.

“It’s like I’ve never heard such beautiful sounds in my life,” sighs Kazunari.

Kise wipes a tear from his eye, clasping his hands together. “That’s so romantic, Takaocchi! It sounds like one of those novels Kurokocchi thinks no one knows he reads---oomph!”

Kuroko doesn’t even look up from his book to send one of his infamous punches right into the pretty blond’s face. “You sound like Momoi-san when she joins a new band’s fanclub,” he says to Kazunari.

“Is there a fanclub for Shin-chan?” Kazunari grins when Kuroko finally lifts his head to give him a blank stare.

Kise sits back up, eyes wide again. “Shin-chan?”

“Ah. That’s what I dubbed him. I mean, his name is too long and serious---Midorima Shintarou, right, Kuroko?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, Midorima Shintarou? First year? With the glasses?”

“Yeah. You know him, Kise?”

“That’s Midorimacchi!” Kise grins, lighting up the entire room. “The guy’s famous for his lightning techniques on those black and white keys. He can sight-read music full of scales and chords like it’s the daily newspaper, it took me a whole _day_ to figure out how to up my speed like that, and even then I still can’t keep up for more than four pages.”

“Wow, he’s that well-known?”

“He also hangs out with Akashicchi.”

Kazunari shivers. “Ah, that guy. Gives me the creeps.”

“They pair up often for competitions and recitals,” Kise adds.

“How come I never heard of this guy?”

“Because you have a thing against classical musicians,” Kuroko quips flatly. He lifts his eyebrows slightly. “Not anymore, apparently.”

“I don’t have a thing _against_ them----”

“Yes, you do, Takao-kun.”

“I just don’t _understand_ them----”

“You avoid them like the plague, Takaocchi. And I understand why, I do, I mean, after what happened to you in high school, that guy was a total jackass, like grade A asshole, and I would know, I’ve met enough----”

“Thank you, Kise.” Kazunari grimaces, trying to not think too hard about the jerk that broke his heart barely a year ago, leaving him with a broken guitar and months of avoiding the stage altogether. “I’m over it, remember? Anyway, Shin-chan plays piano, not the viola. And he plays it _well_.”

“Aw, does someone have a _crush_?” Kise wiggles his eyebrows at Kazunari.

“It’s not a crush, I’m just curious about him.”

“If you’re so curious about him, why don’t you just talk to him?”

“How am I supposed to do that? He probably won’t even talk to me.”

Kuroko coughs slightly. “I thought you just said he was different.”

“Ask him to work with you for your song,” suggest Kise.

A pause. Kise looks between Kuroko and Kazunari, golden eyes stretching wide with confusion and slight fear.

“What--- ow, Kurokocchi, I’m sorry for whatever I said!”

“No, that was actually a really good suggestion,” says Kuroko, while Kise is on the floor holding his stomach and eyes watering, “I just felt like punching you.”

“You’re mean, Kurokocchi~!”

“That was brilliant, Kise!” Kazunari claps his hands together, smiling like he’s just struck gold. “I’m going to ask him to work with me! Thanks, Kise! I knew there was a reason I was friends with you----and not just because you got free concert tickets all the time.”

“You’re welcome, Takaocchi--- Wait a second...”

“Now, I just have to find the guy...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was dumb i've been too stressed over uni applications and how do you write a freaking play into two weeks and i just want to eat pasta
> 
> writing the tsundere megane is _hard_ but somebody's gotta do it. i'll deal with akashi later on but ootsubo-senpai? idk how the heck he ended up here but let's just say he's one hell of a tuba player--- he _blows_ them all away ~~haha izuki-senpai are you proud of me now~~


	3. keep that steady beat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> featuring: actual basketball playing, overprotective kagami, a giant cellist's cameo for all of two seconds, squabbling over too many burgers, and midorima playing the piano (what else).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is too ugly for taking me this long...
> 
> where there's aomine and kagami, there's dumbassery, but also kuroko's badassery

“They never get tired, do they.”

“I don’t think they have that word in their vocabulary, Takao-kun.” Kuroko passes him a water bottle, calmly watching Kagami and Aomine prancing around each other on the basketball court.

It’s a Saturday afternoon, and since the sun is out and homework isn’t exactly exciting, they decided to head across campus for a friendly game of pick-up. Kazunari and Kuroko had tried to keep up for a while, but there’s no competing against monsters like those two. Sometimes Kazunari wonders why they decided to enroll in a music school when they can easily go pro.

“Ahh, I am so tired,” he complains, throwing his head back. The sun is nice on his skin, the sound of people enjoying the sunlight a muted splashing of colours against his mind. Saturdays are nice, quiet and relaxed, like a lone teenager sitting across from you on the train, with his headphones in and polite smiles when your eyes meet.

“You sound like an old man,” comments Kuroko.

Kazunari slides him a disbelieving look. “Says the guy that insists on drinking green tea in the morning and going to bed at ten pm. You probably still use a flip phone, don’t you?”

“There’s no point in getting a new phone if I barely use it,” is the deadpan reply, but Kazunari catches that slight turn of the head and the almost imperceptible tint of red to his friend’s pale face.

He laughs, clapping Kuroko on his back, nearly sending the boy to the ground. They turn back to watch the two on court, where Aomine has just finished one of his formless shots again, and Kagami is growling at him incomprehensibly. The two start heading over after grabbing the ball, slapping each other and squabbling like kids. Kazunari has to admit he admires how their friendship works, that they can be this close to a fist-fight at all times and yet still be the first one on speed dial when they need a drink.

“This guy’s a fucking cheater,” Kagami says, sinking down next to Kuroko.

“You’re just jealous my skills are way out of your level,” retorts Aomine, grabbing his water bottle.

“What skills are you talking about?”

“Excuse me? Did you not just get owned by the awesome me?”

“Were we even playing the same game? I totally dunked more than you did.”

“Yeah, well, dunking isn’t the only shot in the game---”

“How about I dunk you in the trash---”

“Kagami-kun, Aomine-kun.” Kuroko doesn’t move or even change his expression, but somehow the air around him has turned several degrees colder. “You’re both grown men, act like it.”

The mentioned two instantly shut up and straightened as if they were kindergarteners caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Kazunari bites his lip to keep from laughing, because as mild-mannered as Kuroko seems, he knows his friend is the real scary one here.

“Hey, I’m hungry,” he says, stretching his arms. “Let’s go grab some food!”

“Burgers!” Aomine and Kagami yell simultaneously. They glare at each other.

“I’ll come if Kagami-kun buys me a milkshake,” says Kuroko, gathering his things.

Kazunari trails behind them as Kuroko mediates between the two drummers, humming his own rusty-gold tune. He allows his mind to wander, drifting to the song they finished a couple days ago, which he has yet to figure out that missing something. He frowns, turning it over in his head again. He’s tried changing the melody multiple times, adding layers and taking out parts, he’s even tried changing the speed and adding in trills and riffs on the guitar, but that only resulted in him getting frustrated and a new blister on his finger. Which sucks but he supposes will only make his eventual triumph that much sweeter.

“Hey, Kagami, isn’t that your brother over there?” Aomine points a finger towards their favourite sandwich joint.

Sure enough, Kagami’s surrogate brother is sitting at one of the outside tables in front of the restaurant, casually sipping on his glass of iced tea. While the scene in itself isn’t surprising---because in all the few encounters Kazunari remembers having with the guy, Himuro Tatsuya is someone who looks like he’s perpetually cool, calm, collected, and with an icy royal blue quality in his voice to match. In fact, if Kazunari wasn’t roommates with a certain blond model (and thus having constant exposure to sparkles and flawless selfies), he’d say Himuro is one of the prettiest boys he’d ever laid eyes on. And he’s made it his business to lay his eyes on _a lot_ of boys---what _was_  surprising is the person sitting across from him. A very large, very conspicuous person.

“Who the hell is that?” spits out Kagami, gaping at the scene. “Tatsuya didn’t tell me he was going out today--- which means that he was keeping it a secret--- which means that it’s--- a _date_?!” The redhead looks positively livid at the thought of his brother going out with someone he hasn’t yet approved of, nearly breathing fire out of his nose.

“No wonder he didn’t tell you,” remarks Kazunari, “You probably wouldn’t even have let him step out the door.”

“Damn straight I wouldn’t----”

“Jesus, calm the fuck down, man,” Aomine cuts him off, rolling his eyes. “He’s a grown man, he can see whoever the fuck he wants to see.”

Kuroko agrees, “Aomine-kun is right, though I would refrain from the swearing.”

“But seriously, who the heck is that? He’s _huge_.”

“That’s what she said,” snickers Aomine, before Kuroko places a well-aimed fist into his abdomen.

Kazunari looks closer at the broad back and the long hair pulled into a loose ponytail. He blinks. “Hey, isn’t that--- Murasakibara?”

“What? The cellist?”

“No freaking way.”

The group inches closer to the restaurant, careful to avoid Himuro’s line of sight. The dark-haired man is currently laughing at something his companion has said, pretty face scrunched up, the mole under his left eye disappearing. Indeed, it was Murasakibara sitting across from Himuro, calmly eating a turkey sub.

“What is he doing with Murasakibara?” Kagami looks dumbfounded, his brow knit together almost comically. “How the frick do they even know each other?”

Everyone shrugs.

“Man, who cares,” yawns Aomine, walking over to pull open the restaurant door. “I’m starving, let’s eat already.”

“But---Tatsuya’s---he---how?!”

“Why don’t you just go over and ask him if you’re so curious?” Kazunari suggests breezily as he passes Kagami, following Aomine into the restaurant. He snickers to himself at the incomprehensible sputtering coming from the redhead. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees Kuroko smacking his boyfriend in the face with his hand, and then dragging Kagami into the restaurant before he can go over to interrupt Himuro and Murasakibara.

“I am going to interrogate him when he gets home,” grumbles Kagami, even as he’s pulling out his wallet to pay for about fifty burgers and a vanilla milkshake for his boyfriend.

Kazunari exchanges a glance with Kuroko, and then they both turn to hide their grins. They’re sitting down at a table with their food when a large shadow falls over them and they look up to find a giant looking down at them lazily. There’s a suspicious squeak coming from Aomine and Kagami’s general direction, while Kuroko calmly sips his milkshake and Kazunari pauses in chewing his fries.

“Taiga! It is you!” Himuro Tatsuya stands next to Murasakibara, who wears an expression of such immense boredom it rivals Aomine’s in a calculus class. “I thought I heard your voice.”

“Tatsuya!” Kagami blinks. And then he stares pointedly at the tall cellist standing next to his brother.

“Oh, this is Atsushi,” Himuro introduces. Kazunari and Kuroko exchange another look at the first name basis. “Atsushi, this is my brother, Taiga. And there’s Kuroko, Takao, and---”

“Mine-chin.” There’s a short pause as everyone glances between Murasakibara and Aomine, who are giving each other impassive looks.

Kagami chokes on his burger. “Wha--hold up, you two know each other?!”

“Mm? Yeah.” Murasakibara reaches down and steals a fry off Kazunari’s plate. Before Kazunari can say anything, the giant reaches down again and drops something onto the plate. It’s a candy. “Trade you.”

Kazunari picks up the candy delicately. “Um, thanks.” He blinks up at the giant, who chews on his fry nonchalantly.

“How do you know each other?” Himuro asks, pulling a chair over from a nearby table. Murasakibara does the same, and Kazunari watches with interest as Himuro reaches over, all casually, to brush away the bangs hanging in the taller boy’s eyes. He can’t decide if the action was romantic or motherly.

“We used to share the same studio.” Aomine unwraps another burger, looking quite unimpressed with everything. “Same with Akashi, Kise, and that tall snobby pianist--- eh, what was his name again?”

“You mean Mido-chin,” supplies Murasakibara.

“Yeah, Midorima something something. Pretty great at the keyboard but pretty stupid in social situations.”

Kazunari nearly spits out his fries. “Hold on, Midorima? Are you talking about Midorima Shintarou?”

Everyone turns to look at him. He flashes a brilliant grin, hiding the fact that his mind immediately jumped to an elegant profile in front of a piano singing beautiful greens.

Murasakibara nods, unwrapping a large chocolate bar from his pocket. “Mido-chin is my roommate.”

“Really?” Kazunari leans forwards. “What kind of guy is he?” He blinks when everyone sends him a weird look. “What? I’m curious.”

“I thought you didn’t go for classical?” Kagami defends his burgers from Aomine, while the darker-skinned drummer makes a face.

“I changed my mind. And how did you know that, anyway?”

“Dude, everyone knows you flirt with anything that moves, unless it comes in contact with a classical instrument.”

Kazunari scratches his head. “Was I really that obvious?”

“Yes,” replies Kuroko, not-so-helpfully.

“Anyway, I just wanted to see if he could help us with our new songs. If he’s really that great of a musician, I’ll ever put aside my disagreement with the classical elites, hm?”

Aomine and Kagami snorts, while Himuro blinks in amusement. “Good luck, man,” Aomine says, finally managing to snatch a burger away from Kagami’s quickly draining pile. “With a guy like that? You’ll need it.”

Before Kazunari can ask what he means, Himuro and his giant friend stands up to leave. “I’ll see you later, Taiga. It was nice meeting you all.” They wave, walking away together, while Kagami watches with a scary frown on his face, before he’s once again distracted by Aomine trying to steal more food.

Kuroko turns to Kazunari, scrutinizing him with an unreadable look. “You’re really going to ask Midorima-kun to help you with the song?”

He shrugs. “Why not? It doesn’t help to have another expert’s opinion on it.”

“But you don’t even know him.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t _get_ to know him.”

Kuroko sighs inaudibly, sipping at the last of his milkshake. “Good luck, Takao-kun. From what I know, Midorima-kun doesn’t like anybody. You might be better off without him.”

Kazunari chooses to ignore that dark blue warning, whistling an old tune as they watch the two drummers squabble over the last burger.

 

**+++++**

 

Kazunari is taking a short cut across campus with his guitar on his back when he catches soft green hues in the air again. He slows his steps, realizing he’s in the independent study hall again. Cocking his head, he listens, and following the muted greens, yup, there he is again, in all his glory, sitting straight and proper on that piano bench.

Kazunari grins. He leans against the door, peering into the brightly lit room. The window blinds are drawn this time, and the lights on, as it is after dinner time. There’s no one else in the room, and one quick glance around tells Kazunari that there’s no one else in this hallway except for Midorima and himself. He taps a finger to his chin, thinking. And then he pulls out his phone.

_< To: k-senpai: sorry~>_   
_sorry kasamatsu-san i’mma have to cancel on you tonight_   
_something else came up but have fun with the other guys k bye_

He doesn’t bother waiting for a reply, turning off its ringer and tucking the device into his pocket. He takes a moment to brush a hand through his hair and make sure it doesn’t look like he just woke up from a nap. Then, as quietly as he can, he edges open the door, and slips into the room.

The music brightens, murky sea greens blooming into soft meadow grass, kissed with autumn breeze, and the occasional sky blue weaving through it. For a moment Kazunari can only stare at the graceful back of the pianist, so enraptured in the sound. He doesn’t even recognize the tune, probably something from the early romantic period, or maybe he’s just guessing because he mostly slept through that class. He stands there, back against the door, allowing the growing intensity of the green-blue hues to wash over him. It is overwhelming, but not like in a rock concert, more like he’s standing upon a cliff and drinking in the forest below him, every single tree, every single shade, all presented to him in devastating detail.

He can feel his smile stretching across his face, uncontrollable.

Suddenly, the music stops. Kazunari blinks open his eyes, not having realized he closed them. The boy in front of him has spun around to gawk at him, eyes (bright, intense green!) wide behind the thick frames.

 _Oops,_ thinks Kazunari, before his train of thought crashes into oblivion because Midorima is standing up, and boy, is he tall, and fit, and handsome, and wow, he needs to ask this boy on a date right now----

“Who are you and what are you doing in here?”

Okay, maybe damage control and persuading him he’s not a suspicious person is more important at the moment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the ending, i was trying something i don't think it worked... but hey, thEY MEET SO THERE


	4. bringing in the main theme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> featuring: a piano!, midorima's glasses and amazing frown, many cracks at classical music, and takao's swagger and flirting skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here are my excuses for the long delay:  
> -graduation??  
> -kuroken month  
> -the hunger games... i mean course registration  
> -falling into hockeyhell (pls read check, please!)  
> -prepping for first yr of uni and dorm assignments  
> -having a crisis bc i just realized that i'm technically an adult now but i can't even make ramen how am i to make friends ahhh
> 
> anyway. enjoy the show. or song. or whatever this is.

“Who are you and what are you doing in here?”

Kazunari gulps at the intensity of the pianist’s green, green eyes. The surprisingly dark blue of his voice startles his thoughts into a sharp halt. Without the rush of greens from the ivory keys, the room is suddenly too blank. There’s not even the ticking of a clock.

“Uh, I got... lost?”

Shin-chan doesn’t look very impressed with his answer. He pushes up his glasses, still regarding Kazunari warily. “I believe I booked this room until 10pm.”

“Oh, I’m not here to kick you out----”

“If I’m not mistaken, the other rooms are free.” With that, the pianist pointedly turns back to the piano, clearly dismissing Kazunari.

 _What's with the 'nanodayo'?_ Kazunari frowns. That was a lot faster than he predicted. But Kazunari is anything if not stubborn. He steps closer. “What were you playing? It was very pretty.”

Shin-chan scoffs slightly, pushing up his glasses again. The slight frown on his face clearly says how offended he is that Kazunari didn’t recognize it right away. “Haydn. One of his sonatas.”

“Ah, I see.” Kazunari nods, though all he knows of Haydn is that he was a composer. Who is now dead. And probably decomposing. Shaking his head free of the bad joke, Kazunari focuses back on the present before he starts snickering to himself and puts Shin-chan off more than he has already. “You play it so beautifully.”

The pianist doesn’t react in any visible way, instead turning his attention back towards the black and white keys. “If you’re here to gawk, at least do it quietly.”

Kazunari blinks, unsure if he heard right. Because that doesn’t sound like he’s being kicked out. His lips tilting upward slightly, he trots closer to the piano. Shin-chan has already sat back down, long fingers running over the keys, almost like a soothing caress, except Kazunari can’t decide if he’s trying to reassure the piano or himself. He stays still as liquid green fills the room once more.

Shin-chan plays for another fifteen or so minutes, never looking up from the keys. Kazunari sits himself on the ground, drinking in the shifting greens and complex scales forming under the other boy’s slender fingers. It’s almost as if he’s been pulled into a trance by the music. He jolts out of it when the song cuts off abruptly. He looks up.

The pianist is frowning at the keys, as if the instrument has offended him somehow. His hands rest on his lap, loose and empty, but somehow Kazunari feels like on another person they would be clenched tight in frustration.

“Having trouble with that passage?” he asks into the silence.

Green eyes flick up to his. Shin-chan blinks as if he just remembered he has an audience. He glances away, muttering, “It’s just because Cancer isn’t doing so well in this week’s rankings.”

“What?”

Shin-chan huffs. “Please be quiet, I am concentrating.”

Kazunari tilts his head. “Looks more like you’re rage quitting.” He snickers at the glare aimed his way. “You’re having trouble with rhythm?”

The pianist blinks. “... Yes.”

“Why not try breaking it down?” Kazunari stands up, walking over next to the piano. “Play it in with a different rhythm. Like... this.” He takes a moment to read the notes on the page, and then plays out the right hand melody with clumsy but accurate fingers, only instead of the written straight-edge eighth notes he plays it in a dotted rhythm. “See? Make sense?”

Shin-chan pushes up his glasses again, glancing at the music and then back down at Kazunari’s fingers on the keys. “But it is not written that way.”

Kazunari laughs, taking his hands off the keyboard. “So what? It’s not like Haydn’s going to come out of his grave to lecture you. Besides, this helps. Trust me, when my sister’s having trouble with counting, she just does this exercise for a bit. It’ll help with your coordination too.”

“I know that. It’s a child’s trick.”

Kazunari hums, not offended in the least. “So, why don’t you try it?”

“I... I just don’t practice that way.”

“How come?”

Shin-chan turns his head away, so his the reflection of his glasses hide his eyes. Kazunari wonders how long he spent in front of the mirror perfecting the angle for moments like these. “... Aren’t you a guitarist?” he says instead, gesturing to the guitar case Kazunari left on the floor by the door. “Do you always barge into other people’s study rooms and lecture them on how to properly ruin a classical piece?”

Kazunari laughs, pleasantly surprised by the bluntness of the other boy. “Only when they’re good-looking.” He aims one of his famous (self-proclaimed, but still, his mirror agrees) electrifying flirtatious smiles at the other boy. These always work when he’s trying to pick up someone new, just the right amount of smoking to say _Yes, I’m interested_ and amused to say _But only if you are_. Though, Shin-chan’s case might be a special one.

Shin-chan frowns at him. When he speaks, his voice is a murky navy. “Are you making fun of me?”

Kazunari blinks. “No? Did my gaydar fail me? Do you not swing that way?”

The other boy sniffs, glancing back down to the keys. “If you do not mind, I’d rather you respect my privacy. And _leave._ ”

“Aw, but I was trying to help.” Kazunari holds up his hands when a lethal green glare is shot at him. “Fine, fine. But I did come here for a reason though.” He takes a step backwards, clapping his hands together and squeezing his eyes shut. “Help me.”

“What?”

“Okay, I should backtrack a bit. So, I’m in this band, which is totally gaining fame by the way, thank you very much, and we’re awesome, when we actually get down to playing music and not stopping Kagami and Aomine from initiating world war three----anyway, we write our own music, or really, Kuroko does, that little invisible genius he is, and he’s given us another beautiful song and usually it clicks but this one, it’s like, I don’t know, something’s just missing and we can’t figure it out, and somehow they’ve shoved it all on me, which I’m flattered because I’m amazing, I know, but also very frustrated because I’ve tried _everything_ but the colours just---clash together horribly or there’s always a shade missing and I just----please help me.”

Silence.

Kazunari risks a glance up, only to find a blank, confused stare on the other’s face. He straightens. “Hello? Anyone home?”

A flash of annoyance crosses Shin-chan’s face. “What does ‘helping you’ entail, exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know, the usual in songwriting---replaying the same bridge over and over, experimenting with different chords, rage-quitting, chugging too many cans of caffeine in a row, faceplanting on the desk multiple times---you know, quality bonding time.” Kazunari grins at him.

“Why me?”

“... Why not you?”

Shin-chan sighs. “I don’t see how I would be the first choice for aiding you in your... project. I assume by your appearance and your guitar, and quite frankly, your personality, that your band’s sound is not classical. Which is what I play. I highly doubt Bach is your inspiration.”

Kazunari scratches his cheek. “Okay, you got me there. But I’m serious. I want your help.” He shrugs. “Hey, you should feel honoured. And even I’ve heard how good you are at the piano, and I make it my job not to know about classical musicians, you know?”

“I still don’t understand how exactly you wish me to help you, if I was to agree to help you.”

“Oh, come on. You go to a music school. You’ve got to have some creativity in you, other than just sitting here repeating the same notes some dead person wrote decades ago.”

Shin-chan sniffed, pushing up his glasses. “They are how music is intended to be.” He turns back to the piano. “Apologies, but I don’t think I can help you with your song. I am just not, what did you say---‘creative’---enough. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather not waste my booking time in this room.”

Kazunari can feel his overstayed welcome coming to a slamming halt. He sighs, deciding to make a tactical retreat. “Okay, but here.” Sticking his hand into his pockets, he produces a random scrap of paper every creative musician has learned to carry for those darn sudden inspiration strikes. He scribbles down an address and a time, and slaps it onto the piano. “We’re performing at this venue tomorrow, and it’s all our own original music. Come see us, and then if you’re still set on being a stuck up boring classical musician, then you’ll never see me again. But only if you come. And I see you. And you stay for more than five minutes. Okay?”

The other boy stares down at the piece of paper with a disgruntled expression. Kazunari doesn’t stay long enough for him to form a proper protest. He mock-salutes him, grabbing his guitar and gets the heck out of there.

As he closes the door, he hears the soft sounds of green forests start again. He sighs to himself, and then smirks. Damn if those colours were to get away from him. 

**Author's Note:**

> (i apologize for izuki's lame puns, i have not studied enough in the art of punning, gomen izuki)
> 
> being a pianist myself, i have nothing against classical music, i mean, i'd rather play newer songs or write my own but there's a certain grace and beauty in the classics. you learn technique and increase your music sense, whereas in "modern" music you experiment and have more freedom.
> 
> if there's any information i've got wrong, whether it be japanese stuff, characterization, takao's synesthesia, music stuff, etc, pls shoot me a message.
> 
> come say hi on twitter or tumblr @puddingcatbae


End file.
